My name is Piers Nivans, and I'm the top ranking Marksman in the BSSA. I'm a proud soldier, and yet I still feel weak. How can I face him? The man is the very reason I became a soldier. I don't want to be weak anymore, I don't want crying to be the only thing I can do. I thought by becoming the very symbol of masculinity I could regain what I had lost years ago, namely my manhood. Captain, I'll start this from the beginning, that way you'd understand why I can no longer serve under your command. I wasn't always the brash headstrong soldier you and everyone else thought me to be, quite the opposite really, see I never fathomed joining the army. My parents had abandoned me at the age of five. I was left in the care of my Grandmother. She had other children in her care, all girls. See I was her blood but I was cursed with being a boy as she put it. In her eyes I was a monstrosity. I remember my first lesson well. I was playing with the girls when I pushed Susan, on accident honest. Well anyway Grandmother didn't see it that way. She beat me with her cane on my back my hands and well you know. She told me I was never to lay a finger on the girls. I had me a basketball I saved months for. I had planned on going out to play when one of the girls wanted to play house. I hated playing house. I said no. It was the first time I ever had an opinion and the last time, well not counting now as I plan on leaving my post. She told on me and Grandmother beat me again and worst of all she deflated my ball and gave it to the girls to dispose of. I was angry and sad and hurt all at the same time. But I was weak. I just gave in when ever the girls wanted to play house. I even gave them my money I was saving in an old sock. It was two dollars and fifty cents. It may not sound like much but it was all I had. The girls said the money was theirs because it came from their pockets. It was true but I mean they left them in their coats when they put them in the laundry. I still remember how you and the others use to make fun of me when I did the laundry for the squad. I never really thought that men don't do laundry. Sorry for my rambling, this is the first time I'm actually telling anyone the whole truth. At eighteen I thought I was finally free. Free from the beatings and humiliation of being hosed down before I was allowed in the house. I found me a nice group home, in which they helped me apply to colleges and find temp work. Now Captain it is here that caused our paths to meet and to part. This day which was suppose to be joyful my first day of work and all, was anything but. I was heading for the bus stop when I was shoved into an alley. I was pushed to the ground hard. I tried to turn away but I felt a hand force my head down. Then I heard for the first time the voice of evil. It was smooth and authoritative. "You scream and you die, got it bitch?" It was then that I felt the steel press up against my neck. "Don't please…please don't…ki..l.l..me! I don't have much money just enough for bus fair but it's yours just please let me leave!" I begged I cried, and cried. "Bitch what good is a dollar fifty! No I should just kill you!" He said. I peed myself out of fear. It was then that I realized the knife was a fake. "Man this is gonna be more fun than I thought." He said laughing having seen my wet pants. "So does that mean I can go, I mean it was a joke, a little mean sir." I said. "Sir? Man you really are too much. I never realized you'd be so compliant I had hoped for a struggle." He said, I was confused I didn't know what he meant. I would find out though. "Struggle, sir you'd told me not to struggle I mean I thought the knife was real I mean what was I suppose to do, anyway I can't talk long, I have to get to the bus. I'm on my way to work. I'm the new busboy at Walter's Steak House." I said it with pride. If only I had been stronger. "Ah baby you mean you didn't wear that suit for me?" He asked. I thought the question was silly, how naïve I was. I had turned to leave when he tackled me to the floor. I screamed for him to let me go but he didn't budge. He than turned me around so I was facing him. He had a shaved head and piercing eyes. He kissed me but it wasn't pleasant like those Disney movies showed. His hands slipped into my pants. He began fondling me. I cried for him to stop. He continued to grope me. I struggled to free myself. But he was too strong. It was strange I mean he was holding me down affectively with one hand. I thought the groping and copious amounts of kissing would be the end of it. But in a swift move he flicked out a real knife and not a short pocket knife either. It was a hunting knife, course at the time I just thought it would be the knife that killed me. I'm embarrassed to say Captain but I froze. I didn't even resist when he cut my clothes to shred. He put the knife away and he spit onto his fingers. He than inserted them into me. I cried I screamed till my throat was raw. After I just whimpered, I wanted desperately to tell him to stop especially when he penetrated me with his length. But I didn't tell him to stop I wanted to but all I could do was cry and whimper and he pushed in and out of me, grunting like some pig. He licked my tears as he continued to destroy me. I laid there hoping to die. God I cried just let him kill me. "Your weak, you're a bitch I bitched you you're my bitch! I'm gonna mark you so you'd never forget who you belong to." I had thought he was finished but even after raping me he wasn't satisfied. With the knife he carved what he called his brand. I told you guys it was my birthmark, now you know the awful truth. In that moment I lost my identity as a man. I was nothing I was a bitch. That word was ugly and it was that ugliness that was etched into my soul. It was this reason that I joined the army and eventually the BSSA. Captain I want to tell you thank you for everything you had done for me but I have to leave. I can't in could conscious stay. This is how I ended my letter to my Captain. I couldn't tell him who my rapist was or the fact that we were working with and to protect him. That thought still sickens me. The idea that the world's survival depended on him, my rapist made my blood boil. Even more sickening was the fact that I now had his blood coursing through my veins. I remembered sacrificing my life to save the Captain, but no memory after. That is until Captain Redfield filled me in on the man I owed my life to the man's whose blood not only stopped my mutation but gave me back my body arm and all. That man how I loathe him. He still even now dominates my every thought. His name is Jake Muller, humanities savior and my rapist.